


Forbidden Donut

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), The Simpsons
Genre: Amusement Parks, Cartoon Kink, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Donuts, F/M, Fetish, Food Sex, Grinding, Inappropriate Erections, Lap Sex, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Ride Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Simpsons Kink, Universal Studios, Voice Kink, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Cardinal Copia admits a slightly unorthodox kink he’s been hiding.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Marge Simpson, Cardinal Copia/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

You and Copia had decided to spend the night together on an impromptu date. Usually, the two of you would pick a movie (typically something within the horror genre) and snuggle in on his loveseat together. Tonight, he had gone for something a little different, but not too far off the mark– The Simpson’s Treehouse of Horror. Copia had a strange, intense look on his face as he made the selection. He must really enjoy these horror spoofs.

About an hour in, Copia’s wrapped around you from behind, and you can feel him start to shift his hips in a way that suggests his arousal has grown since the beginning of the night.

“Is this your way of saying you wanna turn off the show and fool around, Cardinal?” you tease, flipping around to crawl up his chest. You reach for the remote, but he stops you.

“Eh, no! Please. I want to keep it on. It’s good, eh…” He tries to search for a word. “It’s a good episode. And background noise. Yes.” You shrug, and move up to kiss him. Copia lets out a low hiss into the kiss as his hands fall down to hold your hips, but when you open your eyes, you see that he’s still watching the screen.

“Um,” you giggle, guiding his eyes back to you. He gives you a sheepish, apologetic laugh, and kisses you again. His hand slides down between the two of you, fingers curling up to make quick work of the panties you had been wearing underneath his borrowed shirt. You tuck your legs on either side of him, fuzzy socks tickling his thighs, and roll your hips down. With a throb from your own pussy, you’re surprised to find him fully hard already.

“You’re prepared,“ you note, sliding your hands over Copia’s shoulders. “I’d like to feel that inside me.” You start to stroke along his growing cock, and Copia visibly shudders. "How long have you been this hard, and you didn’t say anything?” He swallows.

“Ah, about an hour.” You do the math in your head. That’s about as long as this volume had been on for.

“Oh. You know, if you wanted to fuck that bad, we didn’t have to wait all this time. I don’t mind getting down and dirty right away.”

“I just felt, eh… we should take it slow, mm?” Copia pats your hip. You tilt your head.

“Whatever you want.” It’s your fourth time seeing the Cardinal, and third time sleeping with him. The last time before this, you had stayed overnight, and discovered more about the rat man no one understood. Tonight, you’re a little bit baffled. He never took it slow before, so what was different about tonight?

Copia is back to watching the show. You frown, looking back at the episode. Nothing particularly captivating was happening– just the opening credits of a new sketch. When the titles of the show appear however, you feel Copia’s cock twitch beneath your ass prominently, directing your attention to his erection.

Suddenly, it clicks. _That poster of Homer and Marge Simpson he taped to the ceiling over his bed was there for more than childhood nostalgia. That figurine of Montgomery Burns behind his toilet? The portrait of Kang and Kodos on his mantle??_ You look down at Copia, and bite your lip.

“Does The Simpsons make you horny, Cardinal?” Copia blushes red.

“What?! No! No, I– of course not, Sister. It’s… _pah_ , that is a ridiculous notion, I eh…” A high whine escapes him. “Ah, shucks. Shit. Shit, yes. Yes, I get hard when I think of them.” You nod slowly. You can work with this. Copia takes your silence as cause to panic. “But I do not need it, like porn or such! Cara, _you_ are all I need.”

“But The Simpsons make it better, right?” Copia swallows again, blush spreading down his neck and to his ears. “It’s okay, Cardinal. You can tell me. Sexual exploration is encouraged by our Lord. Tell me what you need.” Copia fidgets, dick jerking again.

“I like to think of their voices and imagine them watching me… telling me what to do while I jerk off.”

“Yeah?” you stroke up his chin and ghost your lips by the corner of his mouth. “You think of Marge whispering, "Oh, Homie. Look at the way this nice, sexy man touches his cock.”“ Copia groans, fingers digging into your hips.

_"Sister.”_

“Homer’s watching too, Copia. You know what he says when you cum, and get it all over you?”

“What?” Copia breathes.

“D'oh,” you whisper in his ear. Copia gasps.

“Sister, I cannot control. I will cum if you continue, you don’t know how hard I am, Satanas aiutami…”

“Fuck me from behind while we watch the show?” you smile. Copia’s eyelids flutter. You turn around and present your ass to him. Copia tentatively drags your panties down to your thighs, and gets on his knees, noting with a hiss how obviously he’s tented his pants.

“Cara, can we…” Copia begins nervously. “That is, may I…?”

“Ask me,” you encourage with a soft moan, dragging your tits against the seat.

“Mm. May I talk like Marge Simpson while I take you?” His breath hitches, awaiting your approval. You nod.

“Yes, please.”

“And eh… could you… or, I should say, would you… speak as Homer Simpson?” You bite your top lip in a compromise you never thought you’d make.

“Of course, Cardinal.” He exhales, voice wavering. He’s obviously affected by even the exchange alone.

“Are you sure you want this?” he whispers.

“I want to give you the best night of your life,” you murmur seductively. “And if that means talking like Homer Simpson, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“I cannot thank you enough, Sorella,” he groans. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

In no need of preparation, Copia takes himself out of his pants, collecting the pre-cum and bringing it up to his mouth to suck. He moans again, and nudges his cock against you. The slide makes you grind back, and he quickly holds himself ready, positioning and sinking slowly into your welcoming warmth.

“O-oh…” you breathe. “D-d'oh! Marge, that’s gooood.” Copia’s eyes slide shut. The combination of the background noise of the television and your impersonation is sending shivers through his body. No one has ever indulged this fetish of his– he had barely even gotten the courage to tell you, as last time he had told anyone, they had laughed in his face. It is a laughable fetish, he supposed, but then again, The Simpsons was a comedy.

“Oh, Homie!” Copia groans out, voice high pitched and gravelly. “Yes, right there, Homie!” You focus on his cock pounding you silly instead of the atrocity that was Copia’s altered vocal oscillations, and find that you’re getting close.

“Yeah, yeah,” you whisper, then remember that you’re Homer. “Oh, Marge. My beautiful wife! Fuck me just like that! _Yeees_.”

“H-Homie… I’m close,” Copia grunts. “Take my cock like a good little slut.”

That would be hot, if he didn’t sound like the blue haired matron of the cartoon family you were currently watching. One glance over your shoulder however, you see how gorgeous Copia looks. Wrecked, hair tousled, sweat rolling down his face and trailing his makeup in streaks. He needs it bad, he’s chasing his own release and yours desperately. His lips are wet and parted, and his hips are smacking wildly against your ass. You can feel the indents of his fingers already leaving deep impressions, and crave the bruises that would appear tomorrow morning.

“Fuck me, Marge! I’m gonna… cu– _D'OH!_ ” you shout, and Copia shoves himself into you as deep as he can, pausing to spill his hot seed in enthusiastic bursts. When he finally slumps against your back, you sigh in a strange, airy sort of bliss. He slips out of you, and you turn around again to crawl back into his lap and lay down on his damp chest. Curling a ringlet of his brown and silver chest hair, you smile up at him.

“I have to admit, that was hot.”

“You are not fucking kidding,” Copia huffs. “I have not cum that hard in years, cara. Maybe ever. Nobody ever wanted to roleplay The Simpsons with me.” His voice is oddly melancholy, and you feel the urge to kiss his mood back up. You do so, pressing a good, long kiss to his lips and nuzzling his mustache. When you pull away, you tug his hair back and set your forehead against his, licking his bottom lip playfully.

“I’m glad you enjoyed my forbidden donut, Cardinal. Would you like a little taste now?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's back, motherfuckers.

Clergy sanctioned vacations were rare; not because of the hit the budget took for them, but because of the time off they required. Rarely did the Cardinal get any time to himself after his duties, so this was a special occurrence. You had surprised the Cardinal with the idea, and informing him you'd saved your allowance of personal Church funds to treat him.

"Sister, you did not have to do this," Copia assures you as the two of you walk down the City Walk of Universal Studios Orlando. Despite his chastisements, he can't hide the smile fighting its way onto his face.

"You've never been," you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his. "It's something everyone should see."

"I must admit, it was a place I never even thought of visiting before." He looks around at all the shops around you. "I am so used to travelling home, seeing sights in Italy and France. Museums, coastal drives and such. It will be fun to experience something so, eh..."

"Mindlessly fun?" you giggle.

"Si. That." He takes your hand. "It is beyond what I have ever hoped." You’d think Copia was describing some breathtaking view of one of the seven wonders of the world-- instead, he's gazing out over the water, where the big Universal globe rotating at the entrance to the park.

"Want to take a picture?" you ask him softly, running your finger over his knuckles. He nods. The two of you approach the globe, and position yourself for a selfie. Copia extends his fingers in a spooky gesture and widens his eyes behind you, and you grin, looping your arm backward around his neck. You take the picture, and Copia nuzzles over your shoulder to look at it.

"Shit. I look stunned," he frets.

"You are! And you're gonna be even more stunned once you get in, come on!" You take his hand like an excited child, and jog with him to the sweeping front gates. The park opened a half hour ago, and there are people already streaming in. A few seconds in through the main entrance, Copia looks up left at the Rip Ride Rockit coaster and catches your hand.

"Cara! Come, I want to do this." You gaze up at the red behemoth of a twisting track.

"No, you really don't." You know Copia's constitution, and know that he's terrified of heights.

"Please. It is a ride about rock and roll music! I want it so bad," Copia tells you, taking your hands.

"You're just using your sex voice on me so I'll say yes." Copia blushes. You roll your eyes. His nerves would be the ones taking the hit, so you suppose it’s worth a shot.

"Fine! Let's rockit."

Fifteen minutes later, you two step off the ride. "I didn't want that," he sighs, visibly shaking with hair tousled like a rat's nest. To help him feel better, you take his arm and lead him diagonally across the street to visit the Universal Monsters Cafe. You hold the door open for him, and Copia gives you a sheepish look. "I should be the one doing that for you."

"You look like you just had a near death experience, get in." Copia hurries inside and uses you to steady him. While you sit down with some water and the familiarly calming ambience of spooky music and old horror props, you and your Cardinal take a look at the map.

"What is, eh... what is that?" he asks, tapping the corner. He's trying to keep his voice nonchalant, but you can already see his throat bobbing. You look to the upper right, and your mouth turns up in a smirk. _There it was. The reason you had brought Copia here in the first place._

"Oh. That’s just The Simpson's Ride," you mention casually, watching him out of the corner of your eye. Staring intensely at the map, Copia picks at his pants. If he was in the cartoon he secretly adored so much, animated droplets of sweat would be rolling down his forehead.

"Ah." He watches you, and you watch him. Finally, you speak.

"Caro? You wanna go ove—"

"Perhaps later!" Copia blurts. "Eh... no rush, hm?"

"No worries." You smile to yourself as you fold up the map. If he wanted delayed gratification, it would be even more fun for you to watch.

You go about the day avoiding large rides like the Rockit and instead spending your time together watching shows, visiting shops, and taking photos together. The two of you find yourselves around lunchtime sitting by the lagoon in the San Francisco area, just behind the bakery. Copia has his hand on your thigh, and you have yours on his, skin brushing skin ever now and again. It's become a hot day; Copia's taken his jacket off and draped it over the side of the bench, dressed only in a grey undershirt. You like it— you can see all the freckles on his arms, enough of them to connect the dots with your fingertips. The glistening of the water in front of you reflects off his grucifix that he's kept on, and you admire how golden the sunshine is through his mustache and brown hair, populated by a few more greys since last time you checked. Your hand slides up to take his.

"You enjoying the day?" you ask, breaking him out of his thoughtful trance. Copia turns to you and gives a lopsided smile.

"Very much. And you?"

"Anything's fun when I'm with you, Copia." He huffs, looking down.

"Even when I could not keep my eyes open on that rock and roll coaster?"

"I nearly threw up on Men In Black," you point out. "That makes us even."

“I suppose you are right.” Copia's eyes fall across the lagoon to the last ride the two of you had yet to venture on. You wait for him to ask, but he surprises you with a, "Let's get lunch. I will treat, eh? I will not hear a no! You took me on this wonderful trip. It is the least I can do, sorella."

You agree, and the two of you elect to find a restaurant outside the park in the City Walk area. Copia takes you to the expensive pizza restaurant, but gets olive oil on his tank. You two shop for a shirt, and Copia walks away with a Hard Rock Hotel Orlando t-shirt on.

"You look like a tourist," you laugh.

"I am a tourist!" he beams, “A fucking excited one! Dessert?" You're about to recommend Toothsome Chocolate Factory, when you get an idea.

"Follow me."

You two stand in front of Voodoo Donuts. Copia is in awe. "The donuts are spooky, cara!"

"The spookiest." He's practically drooling over the choices. You settle on a Grape Ape, and Copia's about to order the pentagram donut... before he sees the One Ring of all donuts. His gaze sets on the vanilla pastry, light pink icing dripping down the sides in sugary temptation. Multicolored sprinkles cover the top in a dusted finishing touch, just enough to get a couple per bite of the delicious looking creation. As the Cardinal admires it, he hears the voice of he who could typically be found dreaming about it.

"Forbidden donut," you whisper in his ear. Copia squirms. Paying for both of them, you both return to the park. You're almost finished yours by the time you reach the front gates again, but Copia wants to save his for tonight after dinner. You find your way through the unexplored east end of the park, and finally happen upon The Simpsons area.

Copia stops you before you cross the threshold. He can see the faces of everyone he's watched for years, hear the voices from nearby episodes. It’s surreal for him, and you don't even have to look down to know he's already aroused.

"Come on," you purr, taking his arm. "What are you waiting for?"

"Sorella, I'm--" Copia pleads. He turns to you, giving you the eye. “You knew this would happen, no? You knew your Cardinal would react in this way!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Feh! You are sneaky.” Your gaze flickers down as Copia tries to cover himself, and see the hint of a tent in his pants.

"Does it really matter, now that we’re here?" you whisper. "Seeing all this, I know it makes you hard. There’s nothing wrong with feeling a little turned on in public.”

"Si," he gasps. “I am getting there.”

"You haven't seen the half of it," you grin, and tug him along as he whines. You approach the ride; thankfully, there's only a 5 minute wait. As you walk through the lineup, the two of you are surrounded by the voices of characters on the show. You finally get to the front of the line and are directed to room 4, where a particularly violent safety talk is given by the cat and mouse characters, Itchy and Scratchy. Thankfully due to the light lines of the day, you're the only two in this ride party. You really have to include an extra thanks in your unholy prayers tonight for that. Meanwhile, Copia can't stop fidgeting—by the time you sit down in the car, he about looks ready to cum his pants.

“Don’t finish too soon,” you tell him. “We’ve barely even started.”

"I don't know if I can do this," he whispers, tucking his belongings in the net in front of him. "I will... sorella, I can't _cum_ on a ride _."_

"Who says?" you ask, rubbing a hand over his knee. “If you don’t do it, I will.” You know you're being an enabler, but you love the man beside you enough to want to see his dream come true—even if that dream means getting off during a 3D motion cartoon ride.

The cartoon teenager who's supposed to be operating the ride on the screen above you two glitches out, and the character Sideshow Bob shows up. _"I'm taking over every area of the park, there is no place you can be safe from me. And now, enjoy your ride that is about to be demolished-- WHILE you're riding it!"_

Copia grasps your hand tightly as the car starts to move and bump. "It's okay," you whisper. "We never actually go anywhere. We're in front of a screen."

"Is that supposed to make me feel safer?" Copia hisses. “We are on top of a rickety track!”

“Screen.”

The Simpsons family shows up ahead of you, and Copia's fingers tighten on your hand. Homer stands up to yell back at Sideshow Bob. _"Not only are you not killing us, I'm having fun!"_ Satan help Copia, Marge starts speaking.

_"Homie, they said to stay seated!"_

_“That’s just a bunch of corporate—ahhh!”_ The ride tips over the edge of the hill, and the fear only serves to arouse Copia further. His cock jerks insistently in his pants, and an idea strikes you.

“The donut, caro.” Copia realizes he still has the paper bag in his hand that contains the Homer donut. Copia reaches into the bag slowly to take out the treat in question.

“I suppose I could eat it now,” he mumbles. 

“Not eat it,” you whisper, shaking your head. He gets the idea. Eating on the ride isn't allowed, but then again, neither is jerking off.

Hesitantly, Copia pops the button on his pants, watching his favorite show come to life around him. As he slowly unzips and takes his cock out of his pants, no blaring voice overhead is stopping the ride and screaming at him for public indecency, so Copia takes that as a good sign. Keeping his eyes trained on the blue hair of Marge and listening to Homer's silly quips, he squeezes himself at the base, where the blood is rushing. Before he knows it, he's nudging the swollen head of his cock just past the doughy hole of the iced pastry.

 _"Hey,"_ Homer says, falling down in front of the car. _"Have any of you seen a giant steel ball?"_ Copia groans, and you look over in time to see his fingers reach below his cock to graze his own balls. Forgetting about the ride in front of you fully, you watch Copia push his hips up just enough to get his cockhead through the donut. Your mouth waters at the sight of the pink icing that clings to the vein on the side of his shaft, desperate to lick it off. He pushes even further through the hole, and bites back a moan when the donut finally meets the base of his cock. The doughy ring spreads out as if it's about to burst around his girth, stretched to capacity. Soft crumbs of batter roll down his shaft as he slides the pastry back up, and starts up a pace with the sugary grease as lube. More icing sticks to him as he thrusts upward, squeezing Homer's donut tighter around himself.

 _"Alone at last,"_ Homer sighs, in a floating boat with Marge.

_"Bob's trying to kill the kids!"_

_"It just gets better and better."_ Homer leans in to kiss his wife.

"Ah, shit," Copia grunts, reaching for you. You nearly moan when you see a drop of pre ooze from his slit, travelling down to settle on the pink topping of the donut. The ride jostles suddenly, and some of the tiny sprinkles shake off, landing in Copia's smattering of pubic hair. His free hand flies out for purchase and lands on your leg. You stroke his fingers, encouraging him.

“You like that? Homer’s forbidden donut feel good, caro?”

"Please," Copia gasps. "Ai, per favore! I— I am— it is so good…"

"Watch them when you cum," you tell him. "You can do it, baby. Do it for me. Do it for _them_." He slides the sweet donut up and down faster as the moist delicacy starts to crumble, watching the screen as the Simpsons family gets strapped to a death drop ride. When they drop, Homer screams.

 _"My bosoms are slapping my face!"_ Copia moans at the mental image of that, and before he can recover from the wave of resulting arousal, Marge speaks next in her raunchy, gravelly voice.

 _"This must be the part where they take your picture! Okay-- smile!"_ Unable to hold back any longer, Copia gasps and arches his back. As if on cue when the camera flashes, he empties himself with a drawn out whine. Thankfully he had enough sense to aim. The Cardinal’s load is vertical, spurting like a fountain above his fist. Copia's seed dribbles down over his knuckles and pools over the icing of the donut. Some of it soaks into the cake, absorbed by the sugar and batter, and the rest coats his hand and wrist. Copia looks like he's lost his brain through his dick— he can't move.

The ride ends, and before the doors open, you raise the bar and take the donut off of his cock. It's fluffy still, but wet from his spending. While Copia watches you with half lidded eyes, you take a big bite into the sweet treat, cum and icing dripping down your lips.

"D’oh," you whisper with a smile. "This tastes amazing." Copia chuckles, and tucks himself back up with what little energy he has remaining, wiping his hand on himself. Despite the stains of pink icing Copia has left around the crotch of his pants, the attendant isn't too suspicious. She does notice the donut in your hand and you chewing however, and points.

"Ma'am? No eating on the rides, please."

" _Spiacente_. It was my fault," Copia apologizes. "I got a little too enthusiastic about, eh... eating it. Please forgive." The two of you leave before you lose it at that lie.

"We have to see the picture," you urge him. "I'm pretty sure you busted a nut right when they took it." Nervously, Copia tells the gift shop employee which car you were in. He pulls it up, and Copia goes red. In the photo, his head is tilted back and his mouth is open. You're blatantly watching his crotch, even more obviously horny than Copia looks.

"Too bad he fell asleep," the employee tells you with a laugh. "And you're looking away from the camera!"

"Yeah, it is too bad. We’ll take it anyway.”

" _Merda_ —"

"Two copies, please?" When you reach the exit, Copia sighs.

"You are a little troublemaker. But a treasure too, you know that?"

"Why's that?" you tease, wrapping your arm around his torso. "'Cause I ate your cum donut?"

"Ah, no," Copia mutters. "But that was a sight to see. I was reminded after making love to a pastry that my junk still, in fact, worked. A good thing!” He rubs the back of his head. “No, it is because... you don't judge me, you see? You brought me here and... yes, I know it is a strange fantasy of mine. I can laugh at it too, but you were willing to indulge me. Make me feel good. And I did feel good, cara. Very much."

"At the end of the day, everybody's got something that other people would call weird," you tell him. "The Olde One teaches us to indulge if it doesn't harm anyone else. Besides, I love watching you get off. Even if it is to Marge and Homer Simpson." You kiss his cheek, and Copia blushes, turning around and stopping just to sweep you into his arms for a deeper, proper kiss on the lips. You and the Cardinal stroll down the streets of Universal Studios, locked at the hip. Maybe you have time to go grab one more donut before closing—one a little less salty. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, corn crossover!

Copia had fallen into a deep sleep beside you. You had stayed up a little longer to finish posting all the photos from your recent trip to Universal together, but Copia had had a long day, and sleep took him quickly as soon as he had joined you in bed.

Waking up inside his dream, the Cardinal searches around. He seems to be in a living room, from what he can tell. A very familiar living room—one he knew oh, very well. "Cara?" he calls, motivated intrinsically to search for you first and foremost. It isn’t you who responds. It’s someone else whom he knows not in the biblical sense, but come to acquaint himself with in many a fantasy.

 _"Oh, Cardi_." Copia whips around to see Marge Simpson leaning with one arm up against the doorway, dressed in lingerie. Her beautiful bright yellow body almost shimmers with sex appeal, her massive animated tits ready to split the blue bra she had dressed herself up in. Copia’s eyes travelled up the knockout body before him, then realized something. Marge’s hair isn't her usual delightful blue—by the witchcraft of his dream's will alone, it's a shiny, smooth, ridiculously huge cob of corn.

Copia exhales a litany of embarrassing rat noises, thrusting his hands in front of his already hardening cock. "Ah. Hello," he greets her, bowing. "Miss Simpson, yes? You look, eh..."

"Come on, you can say what you mean. Don’t you wanna tell me I look sexy?” she asks him in that gravelly voice. She walks two fingers up over his hands where they’re still covering his crotch. “I know when somebody’s in the mood.”

"Where is, eh..." Copia stutters nervously, backing up. "Where is your husband, Homer?"

"Homie isn't home," she smirks, advancing on him. "Besides, all he does is eat donuts in bed and fart.”

“I fart too,” Copia protests. Trying to make himself seem unattractive doesn’t quite seem to be working, as the Simpson before him continues to approach with lust in her eyes.

“But yours smell good, I’m sure.”

“Eheh! Well—”

“Gosh. Don't you want me, Cardi?" Copia finds himself squeezing his package, but removes his hand quickly when he realizes what he’s doing.

"I have a… I have a significant other you see, Miss Simpson." _Then again, you would probably encourage this tryst. And it was a dream after all..._

"Please," she says, sinking over top of him on the couch and boxing him in with her killer thighs. "Call me Marge." She starts to undress him, unbuttoning his red pajama top. Copia looks around, unable to resist her temptations but still cognizant enough to remain responsible. “The kids?” he breathes desperately, “They are in bed, no?”

"Bart, Lisa and Maggie are sound asleep," Marge assures. "It's just us, honey. Us and the twins." She pops her bra off with a wink, and Copia nearly cums his pants at the sight of the golden yellow areolas staring him in the face—the delicious colour of corn. Thankfully able to restrain himself, Copia focuses on her outlandish hairdo of said vegetable. Marge notices. “Ya know, my eyes are down here.”

“Ah yes. Si, I am sorry. It's just… your hair.” Marge grinds her hips down.

“Go on.”

“I have a taste for the vegetable. It has been a fantasy of mine for a long time to use such a thing to help myself along.”

“Yeah?” Marge encourages.

“There was this one time,” Copia explains with a sheepish laugh, “Where I fit quite a few corn cobs up my asshole in the shower. Five, to be exact. Not even my significant other knows this, even though she knows about… you. It is somewhat forbidden.”

“Nothing forbidden about that. It'll be our little secret,” Marge says. “Now that I know your fantasy, Cardi…. turn around.” Copia nearly loses his breath, but there’s no time to waste in a dream—he could wake at any moment and be left with an erection too embarrassing to explain. The Cardinal gets up off the couch and bends over in time for Marge to get some lube out from between the couch cushions. It’s corn bread scented, from Homesense.

“What is that from?” Copia asks. “Since when do you have that in there? I never saw it on the show. And I have seen all 639 episodes of it!”

“My Homie put it there when we got frisky on our wedding night. We haven't used it since.” Questioning the effectiveness of the expired lubricant, Copia convinces himself not to worry about that as Marge begins to slick up his hole, slipping two fingers inside of him to prepare. Copia presses his face into the brown couch he knows so well, breathing in its scent and taking a deep breath for purposes of future material.

“Please,” he whispers, “Please fuck me Marge.”

“With this corn cob, you're not gonna need five, honey. One will be just enough.” With that, the corn-coloured woman lubed up her corn cob hair, and started to slide it inside Copia’s ass with the restraint of a well-seasoned dominatrix. Marge's hair corn fit all the way inside of him, since he had prepared himself for this sort of girth that one time in the shower. The ridges of the corn kernels only serve to turn Copia on further, bulging cob splitting his ass practically in half. His cries and whimpers only grow in volume as Marge starts to fuck in and out, gauging his reaction and going faster or slower as needed. Soon, Copia announces the approach of his climax, unable to hold his orgasm at bay any longer. Just as he’s about to cum all over the cushy brown sofa, the front door opens, and Homer walks in whistling.

“Hi Marge, home from wor— _d’oh_!” Homer's exclamation pushes Copia right over the edge as years and years of fetishizing these imaginary people bubble up like the kernels in his ass. With a long moan of an Italian expletive, the Cardinal cums as Homer Simpson watches in shock in a white-hot blaze, seeing stars when he’s able to open his eyes at all.

The force of the orgasm wakes him up, and Copia realizes tragically that Corn Cob Marge was only a figment of his imagination. He does however wake up to a sweet treat, sweeter than the donut he had fucked last week. Your hand is around his cock, stroking him through the last of his orgasm.

“Good dreams, huh?” you giggle. “I heard you moaning in your sleep and decided to help you out a bit.” Copia laughs.

“Cara, I have something I have to tell you.” Copia is hesitant to reveal the little secret of his additional proclivity toward corn. _You’ve put up with his Simpsons fetish, so what if corn would be the last straw?_ When he tells you his secret however, you only kiss him in validation. “So you do not mind?” he asks nervously.

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect you to say something so corny.” Copia stares at you. He stares until you break out into a grin, and rolls over so you’re on top of him.

“ _Very funny_. What do you say I place a little order to the kitchens, hm?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah go uh yell at me @kissthegoghuleh on tumblr


End file.
